Heat
by Hopelesshopefulromantic
Summary: Its the middle of a heat wave and sam is frustrated. It doesn't help that Dean is lying on the bed next to him practically naked. Sam POV Sam/Dean Wincest DLDR Review are always wanted.


AN: So this is my second story on the website, and I'm kind of nervous. Please review, Flames are definitely allowed, I don't want to post crap on the site so tell me if I am. This kinda came to me because bitchy!Sam is always perfect and Oblivious!Dean is a treat. So here goes.

Disclaimer: Don't own them

Was Dean trying to kill him? Was he? Because he was getting pretty damn close to just dying. It was hot, he _got_ that. It had been a never-ending heatstroke for close to a freaking week and they were both dying to get out of the stifling humidity. Sam was willing to do almost anything for a cold drink right about now, and he would have sold his soul for an ice bath. He had taken to not wearing shirts at all. He understood that it was scorching, he really did. But that did not excuse Deans outrageous behavior.

Dean was lying sprawled over his bed limbs everywhere, a small catlike smile on his face. Normally that wouldn't have been too bad. Except for the small fact that Dean was placing ice all over his completely naked chest and legs, wearing nothing but some threadbare boxers. Now that Sam had a problem with. He was just lying there, Sam really shouldn't find such a big problem with this situation, but Dean kept making those _noises_. Really hot whimpers and moans that were driving Sam insane because it was really unfair to him and his aching dick to be put in that amount of frustration, but did Dean care? No, no the sadistic bastard did not. Not that he knew of course because Sam would rather die than tell Dean exactly what kinds of thoughts ran through his mind when Dean emerged from the shower, wore those black briefs, cleaned his guns, or did anything that could be interpreted sexually. Which meant everything, because his brother was a hybrid between a slut and a sex god and this line of thought really wasn't helping his situation at all.

He shook his head hard to dislodge the thoughts and focused on the laptop. He was searching for a new case but so far he had no prospects. It didn't matter anyway; they couldn't leave this damn town until the mechanic found the part in the Impala's engine they needed for the car to drive. Hence his dilemma.

"Hey Sammy, get over here," Sam pulled his gaze away from the bright screen and instantly regretted it. Dean had shifted to face his entire body towards him. His boxers were slung low on his hips, exposing the trail of short hairs that led from his navel to the hem of the- _Focus Sam_. He closed his eyes and went through a mental slideshow of every single corpse he had ever seen, telling his erection to _calm the fuck down_ before dean noticed it.

"What do you want?" he asked in a longsuffering tone. _Please say for you to fuck me please say for you to fuck me please say-_

"Did you not just hear me? I told you to get over here," What? Of course Sam was paying attention to Dean's words. He was zoomed in on his lips like a heat-seeking missile. "Why?"

"Cause your being a freaking killjoy that's why. Just relax for once okay. We can find a case when were out of this godforsaken town. As soon as the mechanic calls we're outta here. Now stop brooding and enjoy the ice." Sam pushed his hair out of his eyes, and narrowed his eyes at his brother. The ice really did look fantastic and Dean's points were valid. He stalked over and flopped on the bed next to Dean. He covered himself in ice and groaned as the momentary discomfort gave into pure ice water induced bliss. All was well and good in the world. Maybe this was karmas way of apologizing for the amount of frustration that dean caused with this fantastic body- Dean flopped onto his stomach, "Hey bitch, put some ice on my back, I'm dying here," No, scratch that, this was karma punishing him for having extremely X-rated thoughts about his brother. He winced and cursed under his breath several times. He still got up and grabbed a handful of ice because while this was torture, Dean was giving a free pass to rub his hands all over his body. Yes, he was a masochist, and yes, he totally didn't care.

He pressed the first handful of ice on Deans back and the resulting moan almost made him come in his boxers. He held back with sheer power of will, and proceeded to rub his hands up and down Deans back, digging his fingers in to some sensitive spots, (Thank God for that massage class Jess made him go to) and grinning at the resulting whimpers he managed to elicit, hardening by the second. He heard a breathless _Fuck Sam _and bit his lip as he actually came in his boxers. God he was _pathetic_. He stopped abruptly and made some excuse about needing to relieve himself before going to the bathroom and cleaning himself up. He heard a gasp and a sharp cry of _Fuck _from the other room and his eyes widened comically. Holy shit did he just hear that. Did Dean literally just jerk off to Sam's impromptu massage? His face broke into a shit-eating grin. So Dean reciprocated the feelings. Sam thought about every time Dean made him sexually frustrated and thought about this new knowledge. Payback is a bitch. This would be fun.


End file.
